


A Night of Romance and Adventure in the Company of Marius Pontmercy

by tritonvert



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 21:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2522603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tritonvert/pseuds/tritonvert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The old Marius-with-translation-problems trope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night of Romance and Adventure in the Company of Marius Pontmercy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tumblr user saintjustified](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Tumblr+user+saintjustified).



"Nipple."

Courfeyrac looked up from his novel, blinked at Marius, then shook his head and went back to reading. He must have misheard.

“Nipple? Nipple. ‘This...is...a...nipple.’"

Courfeyrac cleared his throat. Marius was nose-down in a dictionary. By the time he came up again for air, or for whatever sustained Marius Pontmercy, Courfeyrac was looking discreetly away again. Sometimes Marius found his translation work challenging.

Courfeyrac was genuinely absorbed in his novel--the hero was just on the point of finding his beloved in the arms of a British cavalry officer, and Courfeyrac rather hoped she and the Englishman would get away with it, national pride be damned--when it was Marius's turn to clear his throat.

"Courfeyrac? Do you have--a minute?"

"Always, my dear fellow, always." 

He had invited Marius to his room in the Hôtel de la porte Saint-Jacques with the notion of feeding him a good dinner and taking him out to the theater, perhaps convincing him to stay the night under a better roof (and in a better bed) than that Gorbeau building could provide. But Marius had drifted into the room with an armful of books and papers, murmuring an apology. Work--a last-minute request from a publisher--something German. Courfeyrac did not mind, did he? 

...No, no, of course he didn’t. “Perform your translations, my dear fellow,” he’d said, and made a last-minute request of his own--to the portress, to bring a supper for two up to his rooms. The theater tickets had been sent down the hall to a friend, with a pang of regret; Courfeyrac banished all thoughts of fine dining; the modest home-cooked supper had been fed to Marius in increments, slipped between inkwells and dictionaries. Marius, altogether absorbed, had simply nodded when Courfeyrac asked if he minded his taking up a novel for the evening.

It had proved a very quiet night. But now Marius was looking up, ink on his cheek, frowning very hard with a question.

"If you were choosing between the words ‘valley' and 'fissure,' which would you...?" Marius frowned suddenly and looked again at the work. Perhaps he had answered his own question. But no. "...'Alcove' might work. Or 'abyss?' It would be more austere."

Sometimes, Courfeyrac had learned, Marius attempted style. Sometimes his attempts proved more interesting than he had intended. At the moment, they seemed simply baffling. “Abyss? Fissure? Whatever are you translating?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You have a furtive look.”

“It--it was a late request, very hurried. I’ve simply been going sentence to sentence, without --”

Courfeyrac feinted right and pounced left to catch up the manuscript. Leafing back and forth through the pages, he resumed his seat by the fire, his own novel pushed aside. “I see. I see. You were about to describe a woman. In terms of--alcoves.” Or worse. He looked up and saw that Marius was silent, suffering, his forehead on the table. 

“I shall have to abandon the job. I can’t--”

Courfeyrac set down the manuscript and regarded Pontmercy. (Pontmercy’s slumped shoulders, more accurately.) He sighed; he leaned over and poured himself another glass of wine. “Are there, ah--easier--passages?”

Pontmercy’s back moved slightly. “I skimmed the chapter titles. There’s an alpine holiday later on. And I think the, the heroine’s father suffers from a long ailment. She nurses him for several chapters.”

“Really! Does the old tyrant know that she’s been--but never mind about that. Marius, here is my proposal. Pick up your pen, pick up your dictionary. Translate what you can, and hand me the passages that challenge you. We will work side by side; I’ll stay up a night and a day, or as long as it’s needed.”

“But you can’t translate German!”

Courfeyrac studied him gravely. “I can compose in French. You will find--some day--that there is an essential formula to these matters. Never fear, my dear Pontmercy. Trust in Courfeyrac.”

-

Which is how Courfeyrac enjoyed a night of romance and adventure, in the company of Marius Pontmercy.

**Author's Note:**

> "This is a nipple" comes from the immortal text "Cosette: The Sequel to Les Misérables," by Laura Kalpakian, brought to light by tumblr user mizzerablyquotes.


End file.
